The Seventh Shot
by wimmer511
Summary: Tag to The White of His Eyes. It's a little late, I know. Hope you still enjoy it.


**A/N: So, I know I'm kind of late to be putting out this tag, but I've been thinking about it a lot and wanted to have my thoughts sorted before I wrote anything. I'm so grateful that we get to see them argue and get over it, but more so I'm grateful that they actually gave them something legitimate to be arguing about. Hallelujah for that! **

**I was also quite touched by all the allusions to seventh season. Jane saying seven after Lisbon said six, the 7th floor. I think there was something else that I can't remember right now, but I thought that was an awesome shout out from the writers to the fans. So cute! **

**Hope you enjoy this.**

* * *

Jane pulled to a stop in front of Lisbon's house, then looked over at her as she gathered her things and stepped out of the car. She didn't slam the door when she got out, and while she didn't speed walk to the door, her posture was still stiff. His stomach roiled from the hurt this situation was causing.

He'd long forgotten what it felt like to get into a fight with someone you were in love with. He knew that they would have their first fight as a couple eventually, every couple had one, but he hadn't really given it much thought. They'd been so happy. In the honeymoon phase, the blessed honeymoon phase.

He and Lisbon were no stranger to disagreements and he had on more than one occasion felt bitterly ill after fighting with her, but nothing compared to this.

The engine idled softly as he watched her unlock her door and go inside and he felt sick with the distance. She hadn't asked to be brought to her house tonight, but he knew her well enough to know this is where she'd want to be tonight. He knew she'd want her space.

He looked out the front window of the S.U.V. as soon as the living room light turned on and tried to gather his thoughts. Nothing she'd said tonight had been about their personal lives. That was comforting. She'd never give up on him personally now, just like she'd never given up on him professionally. Until today…

His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. She'd been right about him loving the mental stimulation of their job, but more than that he loved being with her—all the time. She couldn't honestly expect him to work without her.

Sure, he may still have Cho or Abbott to work with, but neither of them knew him like she did. Neither of them could ever figure out exactly what it was he wanted to do with such minimal and even, on occasion, no explanation, like Lisbon did. She didn't understand that the biggest part of what made work fun was her.

He'd like her to stay with the team, if he were being totally honest. If he had a choice in the matter he'd leave and she could stay, but he doubted she'd allow that. She'd want him working with people who would look after him, just as he did. Deciding who would get the team of loyal, armed children to protect them when they split teams, did not sound like a fun conversation.

He took a deep breath and made a decision before looking back at the house once more.

* * *

Lisbon shut the door, threw her keys on the table next to it and flipped on the light. The living room seemed cold somehow, even though it was more than warm enough. It'd been awhile since they'd stayed here, but she was glad for it tonight. As much as she wanted to be able to leave their work life at work, she realized now that that wasn't something that she'd ever be able to do with Jane.

It wasn't just a matter of dating someone you worked with. He was and had been the one person she'd gone to for years with her problems, which had mostly been work problems, but that was what happened when you spent your life devoted to helping a sorrow-racked widower hunt down and kill a psychopath.

She'd confided in him for so much over the years, even when she was angry with him she'd been straight forward, so how could she expect herself to be able to put those feeling aside when they were at home and not at work. She wouldn't be without him anymore, but a slightly bigger bed, would give her the space she needed.

She kicked her shoes off and heard a vehicle pull away. She looked through her light curtains and watched two taillights move down the street. Her stomach flip flopped. He left? Her heart pounded heavily in her chest and her throat constricted.

He left.

She knew he was having as hard a time with this situation as she was, and she knew that he'd been hurt by her silence, but she'd kept quiet hoping that her anger and frustration would quell somewhat so that she wouldn't say something she'd regret later. And he'd taken it as a rebuff.

The idiot!

She was done with this running nonsense. They were together now, and even though she wasn't totally surprised that he'd left—it hadn't been the first time—she felt the sudden urge to shove his words at work in his face. So much for "working it out."

She grabbed her phone and called him. He answered on the first ring. "What are you doing?" she spat out. She looked out the window for headlights hoping she'd see him driving back.

"Huh?" he responded.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down. She didn't want to fight with him anymore. If she did he may never come back. She breathed deep. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

She grit her teeth, then forced as calm a reply as she could. "I just saw you drive off. I didn't—don't want you to leave."

Her door swung open and she turned as Jane stepped inside. His brow was furrowed.

"Oh," she said.

They both hung up.

"You thought I left?" He gave her a slightly irritated look while titling his head.

"Yes." It must have been a neighbor. "Sorry," she said meaning it even though it sounded a little angry.

She pushed past him heading to the living room. He followed, and before she had time to head down the hall he stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

"Teresa…" He sounded a little sad, and that was enough to get her to turn and look at him. "It never occurred to me to leave."

She faced him. "I know. I'm just a little worked up and I saw the taillights…"

"I'm not going to leave you Teresa," he told her slouching to better look in her eyes.

The lump that had been in her throat when she'd thought he'd left returned and she looked away.

She stiffened when he stepped closer, causing him to stop. "I could never. Not now. If I go anywhere, from here on out, you're coming with me. I need you to understand that," his voice quavered.

A tear slid down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away with the hand he wasn't holding. She had panicked a minute ago. She really had thought he was going to leave her again. She forced herself to look up at him. His brow was knit, his eyes a little glassy and he swallowed hard. The clearly both had their issues.

He'd come back for her. He'd gotten her a job with the FBI so he could work with her. He'd hopped a fence, sprained his ankle, and boarded a plane illegally to profess his love for her. And today he'd pissed her right the hell off, but he'd done it because he was afraid of losing her. She shook her head. She'd been silly. He really wasn't going anywhere without her—eever again. She knew that, but she was still angry.

"I know," she said making eye contact. "I know that. I didn't mean to turn this argument into something it's not."

She saw his posture relax somewhat and was glad that she could give him at least that much. For now anyway. They still had to talk.

He nodded.

"I'm still mad at you, though." She pulled her wrist from his grasp. "What you did today was dangerous and irresponsible."

He sighed, and looked away. She could see his jaw clench before he spoke. "Don't act surprised, Teresa. This isn't the first time I've done something 'dangerous' or 'irresponsible' to protect you."

She felt her hackles rise. How was it that even now they were back to the same old, worn out conversation they always had. She turned from him and headed for the bedroom. "That's just it, Jane. How many times do I need to tell you that I don't need you to protect me? Not then, not now. I'm an officer of the law."

"And my girlfriend," Jane told her as she pulled a jersey out of her dresser.

She slammed the drawer and faced him. He was standing in front of the bed.

"Oh, please," she pulled her shirt over her head, then pulled her jersey on. "You cannot use that as an excuse when you've been pulling these crazy stunts for years." She struggled to pull her bra out her sleeve and when it was out she flung in a fury at the floor.

"Maybe I didn't have a right to do those things then," Jane said, "though I always disagreed with you when you told me you didn't need me to protect you. Why? Because I cared about you." Exasperation dripped from every syllable. She was glad he was ignoring her fight with her clothes, as she struggle to kick out of her pants, because if he'd tried to say something cute, she was sure she'd punch him. He continued. "But I never argued with you…"

"No, because you always did what you wanted anyway, regardless of my feelings. Why bother fighting with me when you knew you'd never listen anyway?" Finally free of her pants she threw her hands up.

"Which should give you some idea as to how I felt about you even then. I didn't argue with you, yes, because I would've protected you with any means necessary, but also because I knew I didn't have the right," he said angrily, "but I sure as hell have the right now."

His words stopped her in her botchy attempt at her nightly ritual and she stared at him. This sucked. He did have a right, but it wasn't that simple either. She had to make him understand.

"What if Abbott or Vega had been shot?"

He turned partly from her, and placed his hands on his hips.

"Or Cho?" She reached out and touched his arm. "Jane, I understand your point of view and I am grateful that you want to protect me, but the team needed me, and you pulled me out."

"Everything worked..."

"This time, but what happens next time when they're outnumbered?"

He turned back to her. "I don't know yet, but I do know that I am not willing to make bets with your life."

"But you are with theirs?" She stepped forward and tried to make eye contact, but he refused. "My fear is not just that someone will get hurt because I wasn't somewhere I needed to be because you pulled me out, but also that if you did that and someone did get killed that I would blame you for that forever."

He looked at her now, his eyes were as sad as they'd been in his worse moments during the Red John days, and just as determined. "I could live with you blaming me. I could live with you hating me. It'd be a miserable existence, but I could do it. What I couldn't do is survive if you were killed. I barely survived Angela's death—yours would be one too many for me."

Lisbon could feel a lump rising in her throat.

Jane continued. "And as long as we're having this conversation I might as well throw out there that I don't want to work on separate teams either. I know I couldn't stop you from leaving the team if you wanted, but you should know that this job only holds joy for me as far as I get to share the experiences with you, and further I would be a mess being separated from you—wondering if you were safe, eating, stressing, doing something heroic and completely stupid. I'd end up being completely useless to Abbott."

She couldn't decide if his little outburst was annoying or flattering. He wasn't lying, she knew that much, but it still felt like coercion. But what most infuriated her is that she really had no desire to work separately from him either. While the FBI was much more her speed than working as a Sheriff had been, she remembered what it was like working without Jane and knew deep within herself that she'd be completely bored out of her mind. No more run-of-the-mill police work would ever do for her again.

"Damn it, Jane!" She stepped back and he looked like he was preparing another argument. That was until she said, "Why do you have to be so great?"

She was spitting mad. Jane's brow furrowed for a moment as he processed this, and then he smirked.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked.

She slumped down on the end of the bed and rubbed her hands over her face. "I'm serious," she snarled and looked up at him. He furrowed his brow again. "When did you become my every fantasy?"

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this mad. His chest puffed out a little, and it irritated her more that it made her feel a little giddy. She scowled.

"Your every fantasy?" His smile broadened and he reached out for her.

She swatted his hands away. "It's not funny. Personally, professionally. I mean, I really, honestly, think I'd be bored out of my mind if I didn't get to work with you. How does that happen? I was a good cop before I met you. I worked hard. I went far. I was fulfilled and then you came along and completely skewed my professional desires. And I never break up with you, because you're everything I want—meddling in my profession or not."

By now Jane was grinning like an idiot. He sat down next to her smile firmly in place. She refused to look at him for several minutes, knowing if she did, she'd probably smile too. She wasn't ready to smile yet. And while she realized her outbreak had been a little silly, everything she'd said and been founded in honesty. It was frustrating.

He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of hers. "Teresa, look at me."

"No," she said, feeling goaded by the delight in his voice.

She heard him breathe out and when he spoke again, his voice was serious. "Please."

She sighed and turned to look at him. The moment there eyes met, they both tried and failed not to smile. "Stop it," she told him. "This is your fault."

"That I'm your every fantasy?"

She dropped her head into her freehand. "It's not funny, Jane."

"It's not, you're right," he said. She could hear the humor in his voice. "I've never been anyone's 'every fantasy'. That's a lot of pressure."

"Oh stop," she said and despite the fact that she had only minutes ago wanted to stay funning mad she was starting to feel a little better.

He lifted her hand and kissed it, then murmured against her skin. "It's your fault for being so tempting…"

"Please…" she scoffed, even though she was starting to feel butterflies in her stomach. It didn't seem fair that he had this kind of power over her. "It's ninety percent your fault."

He frowned. "Come on, it's at least fifty-fifty."

"Jane, you pulled me out endangering the rest of the team, and it's supposed to be my fault because I'm tempting?" The situation was serious, and she narrowed her eyes to try and prove it, but she couldn't bring herself to sound even remotely angry right now.

He snickered and lowered her hand, still encased in his to his lap. "Sixty-forty."

She shook her head. "Seventy-thirty is my final offer."

"You drive a hard bargain. I accept." He leaned in and kissed her lightly, then pulled back. "I love you," he said, his expression startlingly serious again. "More than I could ever hope to make you understand. I get your position and I believe you know mine, but I need to know for sure."

"Jane…" she could feel the lump in her throat coming back, her happy feelings sinking into the grief that came along with _his_ position.

"It was the seventh shot."

Her chin pulled back.

_ By my count I've been shot six times," _she had told him.

_Seven, _had been his bleak reply before he'd walked off.

She was sure it'd only been six times. She focused on his face again, and felt a little embarrassed when she realized she'd been replaying the events of that day in her head.

"I counted the shot at the cabin."

Her stomach sank and her mouth fell open. "Patrick…" Of course he had.

"I had too, because I hadn't seen it coming." He shook his head. "You weren't wearing a vest. Why weren't you wearing a vest? Teresa, this entire case threw me. I wasn't thinking clearly. The seventh was a reminder that I'd missed something. I played it over and over again in my head, and even though we were all sure nothing had been missed, I couldn't get the hole in your blazer out of my head. The only way I could do this is if I knew you were safe."

She felt pity for him then, and hoped it didn't show. And then she felt guilt. Felt it for what he'd gone through out of fear for her. How could she keep putting him through this when he'd already lost so much?

"Don't give up on me just yet," he said, and she knew that he was speaking of work. Their personal relationship was solid. "We've made it work in far worse situations than this."

It pained her to do, but she had a solid point too, and stuck to her guns. "I have to be able to trust you. If I can't…"

He cut her off. "I know, but I think I can do it. I can protect you and the team. Just, give me a chance."

She watched and listened for sincerity and after a moment finally nodded, thinking in the back of her mind that maybe it really was time for them to move on with their lives. His face was still serious, but in the split second before he kissed her again, she'd seen gratitude. She needed him and he needed her. Could she really say there was anything else they needed?

* * *

After their talk, Jane had gotten ready for bed while Lisbon had called for takeout. They'd eaten Thai food and watched Alfred Hitchcock's To Catch a Thief and then had gone to bed. Jane lay awake hours after Lisbon had fallen asleep, her head pillowed on his bare chest and lean body draped over his side, and thought about how he was going to keep his promise.

Their conversation had gone over so much better than he'd hoped it would. There fight, while unpleasant, had ended up being necessary, and healthy. He'd been especially proud of her when she'd acknowledged that he wasn't going anywhere without him. She'd been embarrassed at her persumption that he'd left, but she'd thought about it and now she knew. He needed her. He smiled and leaned into her hair, breathing in the musky vanilla scent of her shampoo.

He'd seen her face before he'd kissed her earlier, when he'd asked her to give him another shot, and knew that she would start thinking of leaving the FBI now more than she ever had before. It was in her nature. She loved him and wanted to make him happy. Plus she wanted to be happy and was happiest with him.

Still, he didn't want her to feel pressured. She loved her job and he didn't want her to give it up just because she felt she had too. So, from now on, he'd have to be cleverer than he'd ever been before. Come up with plans that would keep her safe and included, and that would keep the team safe.

He had always been the guy to get results, but now it couldn't just be about results. Now he had other things to consider, things that had rarely fit into his plans before. Like how to keep her safe and her trust, all while getting results. It'd be hard, a challenge, but since when had he not thrived on challenges.

Lisbon wriggled against him. He looked down at her sleeping form and ran a hand over the skin on her back. She was so beautiful. So Lisbon.

Not for the first time since they'd been together, he imagined their future. What it would entail, what it might bring, and what it meant. That he'd get to spend the rest of his life happy and with the woman he loved. How had he gotten so lucky?

A deep relaxation fell over him and he scooted down slowly, careful not to wake her, until he was in the perfect position to kiss her. Even fast asleep he marveled at how she instinctively kissed him back.

He took one more look at her, then closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to drift off.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter of Rear Window will be out today, for those interested. Also if you haven't already started reading Phoenixx2812's story, Endgame, you should check it out. It's fantastic. **

**Reviews are always appreciated! :) **


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